Melk
by SoostheMoos
Summary: Lisa has a conversation with Lucy


Lisa paused. The clouded fumes spilled over the rim of the vial she clutched in her gloved hand, dissipating before it reached the floor. The wall clock ticked loudly over her calm breaths. Outside, a bird sang its song of spring to potential mates, and the distant sound of a lawn mower resounded through the neighborhood.

But not a single one of those things was an interruption.

The studious child was unused to witnessing such a long period of time without a disruption of some sort. It was well past lunchtime, and she hadn't seen another soul since she retreated to her room after breakfast. The bathroom door hadn't been touched. Luan and Luna's room produced neither music nor laugh tracks. As a matter of fact, no one's room had produced any noise at all. It was almost as if...

"Hey, Lisa."

Had Lisa's grip on the vial been any looser, the elixir would have met its fate on the carpet. She nearly fell on the floor herself as she let slip a gasp of surprise, her eyes as large as the glasses hiding them. Without regards to her experiment, Lisa whirled towards the source of her interruption.

"Sorry if I startled you," Lucy spoke in her usual monotone, standing in the middle of the room. "Mom took everyone else to something I didn't care about and Dad's asleep on the couch. Mind if I read you my poetry?"

Lisa, who had quickly recovered from her shock and regained her composure, responded with emotion to rival Lucy's.

"I don't believe you've recited your poetry to me previously," she sniffed. "Is there any reason in particular you've elected to reject the simplicity of waiting for Lincoln's return and instead attempt to deliver your verbal pictorialization to potentially the least receptive candidate in the family?"

"I just figured," Lucy answered, more quietly than before, "maybe a change of pace would be nice. Routine is the enemy of creativity after all."

Lisa took a moment to study her sister. She eyed the black-haired girl up and down in an attempt to catch a glimpse into her true intentions. Lucy maintained her usual stoic posture, making such a task difficult for most people. Not that it mattered to the four-year-old. She had read the confirmation she needed.

"What do you want, Lucy?" Lisa asked, narrowing her eyes.

"I just wanted to share my-"

"If you don't wish to inform me of your genuine intent, that is your problem," the tiny scientist cut her off. "But if you'll excuse me, I have tasks at hand more significant than dishonest banter."

As Lisa turned back to her chemicals, Lucy's face flashed a vaguely distressed expression before reverting back to its usual emotionless state.

"Wait," Lucy pleaded, emotion creeping into her voice. "I don't want to read you my poetry. I want your opinion."

"Was that so hard?" Lisa asked as she placed her vial in the rack, pressed a few buttons on her timer, and turned back towards her older sister. "How may I be of assistance?"

"Do you think supernatural things exist?"

The Poindexter mentally frowned. She was hoping for a question that resided in her area of expertise. Not something that any neckbeard with a fedora dreams of being asked. Nevertheless, she wasn't one to leave a question unanswered if she could help it. Besides, Lucy sought her out personally.

"Well," she began, closing her eyes, "That depends on what you define as supernatural. If we're delving into afterlife and other such unfalsifiable philosophies, I'd rather not comment. But if you wish to discuss creatures of the night, vampires, werewolves, and other such 'spooky' entities, I'd simply point you to my own creations."

"So you think vampires are real?" The raven haired girl let the tiniest smile creep onto her features.

"I think it would be a mistake to rule them out," Lisa elaborated. "I accomplish what massive portions of the population consider science fiction on a weekly basis. I wouldn't be shocked if someone else can grow fur every 29.53 days. Having said that, don't expect me to give positive statements on the matter without valid evidence."

"What about the darkness?" Lucy continued. "Not shadows. The crushing, soulless void that hangs above everyone like an invisible Sword of Damocles, waiting to suffocate you as your last piece of hope dies just beyond your grasp."

"You mean the storm cloud that follows people in cartoons?"

"It's an outlook on life," Lisa explained. "To put it in layman's terms, your glass is half empty. I consider life to be a series of building blocks, giving everyone the chance to build something to raise yourself beyond what you came from. Your viewpoint is reversed, as you consider your building blocks a tool to keep out some demon you've invented, burying yourself in a pool of your broken hopes and dreams."

Both remained silent for a moment, contemplating the conversation thus far. Lisa was impressed with her own poetic delivery, while Lucy was frustrated by the remark. The latter felt as if her younger sister had no understanding of Lucy's viewpoint, despite living in the same house for four years.

"So... you think think the darkness is a figment of my imagination," the elder Loud sister said, breaking the silence. "And that The only soulless void is the one I create to avoid responsibility for my life choices.

Any pride Lisa felt about her delivery vanished after hearing her sister's understanding of it. She shifted uncomfortably as she carefully picked her next words.

"I think my attempt at colorful wording may have obscured my intended meaning. I don't believe you're devising scapegoats," She clarified. "I do think you're looking at life in a very different manner, and I obviously disagree in favor of my own. But I also feel trapped. Not by your own definition, but in that I'm restricted from accomplishing what I am clearly capable of. But I don't see it as a darkness, but instead as my family. It's necessary to consider your options and if the positives outweigh the negatives, you take your chances."

"I think you're wrong," Lucy rebutted. "You see life as a network of absolute values, but nothing is so black and white. Life is a blur of greys, and some shades are indistinguishable to us from absolute darkness. You say we take the bad with the good, but I say that we do not know the difference. Once you abandon exact labels, the world becomes that much more clear and manageable."

"Not everything can be labeled, but one can often deduce the positive and negative consequences of their decisions before they commit to them."

"But sometimes the positives and negatives are confused. Not every so called positive bears fruit, and sometimes the negatives help more than hurt. That is the dilemma of mankind."

As the two continued back and forth, the light from the window slowly traveled across the room. The clock hands continued their journey, though currently unnoticed. The two Louds didn't budge from their location as long as one of them had something to say, and neither wanted to give up the final word. The conversation had forced them to reach a mutual understanding: they didn't know each other at all. Despite being related, and despite living together, neither of them had taken the time to reach an understanding. A single discussion could never fix that, but now that they recognized the issue, they could begin to address it.

A beeping alarm interrupted them.  
Lisa snapped her head towards her elixir, which no longer released any visible fumes.

"My solution is about to expire and render itself useless!" She started towards the waiting vials before pausing and glancing back at Lucy. "You know, if you have time you could assist me with my experiment," she offered, gesturing towards her elixir. "I'm currently engrossed in what a sizable portion of America considers 'God's territory.' We could further our ideological discussion as we work."

"I'd like that," Lucy answered, turning up the corner of her mouth in something that resembled a smile.

Lisa shuffled over to the table and grabbed two pairs of gloves. She smiled. For once, an interruption in her experimentation had resulted in something she valued more than the experiment itself. For once, she was glad to have been interrupted. 


End file.
